Tender Sadism
by Strawberry Hez
Summary: [AU][Slash]Roger glared at the other boy with a disdain that only an antisocial serial killer could muster.


Hez Here! Oh wow. So, all my stories sort of died. Whoops! My mistake! Honestly, I just got so very busy, so I apologize for all those who waited up for an update and never got one. Sorry, my mistake. So, in order to make it up to everyone who used to read 'Marooned', here is your apology story. And lots of Roger lovin'! Okay, so I decided I wanted to do an AU. So, here is my attempt at one. Yeah, it contains slash, don't like? Then don't read! Kisses and Apologies, Hez

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Roger Lee Harper did not like enclosed spaces. He would rather slit his wrists than been in a tiny car. Much less if his mother and father and his siblings were in it. He groaned, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window. The window, however cool it was, offered him no comfort, no matter how hard he wanted it to, it refused to be a source of comfort. His older brother, Remy, threw back his head in a loud peal of laughter and he wanted to punch the uncooperative window and put a bullet in the head of his obnoxious sibling. He hated his family. There were five of them. He was the youngest at fifteen.

Rodney, the oldest, was twenty-seven, the biggest kiss-arse he knew, and a wealthy business man. He married some high-society whore named Olivia and they had a kid and another one on the way. Roger's personal opinion of his oldest brother was that the guy needed to jack off sometime or at least loosen up a little bit. Raphael, his favorite sibling by far, was a quiet violin player who was fun to talk to. Roger's interest in the arts came from Raphael. Remy and Reed were seventeen-year-old twins and were always with each other. They annoyed him more than his mother's idle talk about weddings and frills - that honestly just pissed him off- which was surprising. They were virtually attached at the hip and talked more than a pair of housewives.

He sighed, again, pulling away his head from the window. Looking down at the brochure in his hands, he sighed. It raved about his new Prep school and what joys Catholic boarding schools offered, financially and morally. A horribly acrid feeling suddenly hit him, like a badly timed slap. It was the fact that he didn't get to come home to a familiar room with his things all cluttered did not sit well with him. The other fact was that he would be forced into prayers and church services, which did not bring any joy at all because he was a die-hard atheist. He groaned to himself, rubbing his temples and trying to find something to concentrate on other than Reed crowing like some sort of mentally challenged bird.

He suddenly recalled that guided meditation thing from Fight Club, with the chakrah and the doors. He sighed to himself, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Now how did it go? Oh yeah, Joe, the Narrator, went through his green heart chakrah door thing or something. So he imagined himself going through the door, blocking out the twins' shrieks of laughter. He opened his heart-door and entered his cave. His cave was dark and there were white butterflies fluttering around every which way. He recalled having to look for his power animal or something. Looking around his cave he continued on, seeing a small stuffed panda looking as if the stitching keeping it together was going to fall apart at any given second.

The panda, with it's mismatched black button eyes beckoned him forward. chakrah-Roger moved forward and looked at the panda, expecting it to say something. The panda opened its cross-stitching mouth to speak but something suddenly ran into his head, disrupting his guided meditation. Opening his eyes, Remy was howling with laughter.

" Remy, sod the fuck off, you dip shit!" Roger growled harshly, making an obscene gesture with his hand. Remy laughed harder and Reed simply smirked poking him in the head again. Roger slapped Reed's hand away, blowing his cheek-length bangs out of his eyes.

"Roger Lee Harper! I saw that!" his mother called from the passenger seat, manicured deep-brown eyebrows knitting together in disapproval.

It was always disapproval with his mother. He always did something wrong, he was never the wonder-child that Rodney had been. He was the problem-child, always yelling and cursing. But when had he ever done anything right in his Mother's eyes? His mother's praise was rare but his Father's was nearly nonexistent, but he didn't care anymore, he had gotten over that long ago.

He grunted, simply wanting the chair to swallow him whole, because if it did, maybe he would consider believing in some sort of supreme being. Hell, he would start going to church again on sundays.

"Awh! Is my ickle Roger angry?" Reed cooed, smirking crookedly.

"Sod off, Reed." He growled again, sinking further into his seat.

"Awh, but he's my ickle widdle Rogey-poo! He's just going to have such a fun time Wells!" Remy crowed, almost falling out of his chair laughing.

Roger rolled his eyes. Desperate for something exciting to happen to distract The Twins From Hell, but he knew that God, Buddha, Brahma and Allah all hate him. He could see it quite clearly: All four of the Gods sitting around a poker table, drinking when God decides he wants to play a joke on humanity

' Hey, I'm bored, Allah put down the wine and all of you come here.' The three other heavenly beings look at God, serious for a second.

'Let us play a joke. We will name him Roger and he will have the most horrible luck on Earth, more horrible than that of my son.' God jokes and the all four deities throw their heads back and laugh,

Like some perfectly-timed slap, a single bright thought hit him.

' Jack! Thank fuck! Jack is going to Wells!' he brightened as much as one could with someone screaming in his ear.

Suddenly the van turned to the left and Roger felt like kissing everybody he had ever met. He wanted to throw himself at the feet of some crucifix and pray, thanking God for the mercy he was bestowing upon him. But of course, he was an atheist so the entire praying event was completely and totally out of the question. There would be no praying, unless he was forced to, which he would be, because of the boarding's schools Catholic orientation, another thing he held against the school and his parents.

The van pulled up to a very large school ( to Roger it looked more like an 'institutionalized correctional facility'). It was a large structure with a modern layout. He observed the school with a neutral look on his face, not wanting to show any emotion. He noticed that next to him the twins had fallen silent, even his mother's incessant chattering stopped for a second or two, before resuming with more fervor than before.

Eventually, after five minutes of driving aimlessly in circles, they reached the main parking lot. He noticed that Mrs. Merridew's car was parked close to the entrance, and he found himself with a slight smile on his lips. His father eventually found a parking spot after going up and down the rows and rows of cars that seemed to never end.

He smiled to himself, brushing his fringe away from his eyes. He sighed, trying to remember if he packed his straightener because he had to, of course, take care of his hair. Sighing, he unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door. He let out a sigh when his feet hit the asphalt, automatically throwing his arms up into a stretch that was echoed with a grunt. Cracking his neck, he squinted his eyes as the sun flashed brightly into his unshielded optics.

Remy and Reed both jumped out after him, deep in conversation about one of the new teachers. Roger payed the no attention and simply began walking toward a large door with the school's motto etched into it.

'Ex Sulum Suus Optimus.' Roger struggled to remember the meaning of each word. Now looking back at it, it was no wonder he failed Latin in elementary school.

Finally, he reached the door and opened it. The scene that met his eyes made his stomach sink slightly.

In front of him, were numerous parents standing around with glasses in their hands sipping at whatever was in their cups. The students, both new and returning, were finding old friends and making new ones. The teachers, who were indicated by the ties they wore bearing the school's colors, were mingling with the parents most likely talking about the material their children would be studying this year. He looked around quickly, scanning the room for any flash of red hair. Looking toward the farthest corner to the right, he found what he was looking for.

Jack Merridew was seated on bench, a small cup in his hand, staring down at the red liquid in his cup as opposed to listening to the brunet beside him. Roger grinned to himself and set off in that direction, hands shoved in his pockets, head down, hair covering his grey eyes. Halfway to the small bench, he collided with someone. Stumbling slightly, he picked his head up to see that he had knocked over a pale, thin young man with ebony hair and twinkling green eyes. He mumbled an apology and helped the other boy stand up. Shoving his way past the dark-haired boy, he smiled when he stood in front of Jack, who still was more occupied with staring at his drink.

"Excuse me, ladies, but I'm not interrupting am I?" Roger asked, running a hand through his hair. The first thing he thought when he saw the lanky brunet sitting next to Jack was that Jim Morrison had managed to crawl out of his grave at Père-Lachaise.

Jack looked up from his drink and the 'Thank-You-God-For-Roger' look plastered itself on his face. He smiled grabbing the other teen and yanking Roger down to sit. The lanky brunet stopped talking for a second before clearing his throat, indicating that he was not done speaking yet.

"Oh, yeah. Uhm, sorry. Right. Maurice, this is my-" he broke off and looked at Roger, unsure of what to say " Roger. This is Roger." Jack said, failing at playing the social butterfly.

"Hello, Roger." The brunet said, lopsided grin on his angular face.

"Uhm, hi." Roger nodded once and then turned to Jack, smirking to himself when the brunet gave a huff of anger.

Roger smiled when he looked at Jack again, he noticed that the boy's eyes were just as blue as they had always been, but his hair had gotten, if it were possible, redder. The redhead was nicely tanned because of his month-long stay in the Virgin Islands, and had grown taller.

"Roger, what the bloody hell is that?" Jacks said, mouth twisting into a frown of disdain. Roger looked down, noticing that Jack was pointing at his wrists.

"Oh. Tattoos." He said bluntly, still ignoring the muttering brunet.

"Why the bloody hell did, you get tattoos? And what in God's name do they say?" Jack asked, yanking his wrist to get a better view of the markings.

" Ryan Ross from Panic! At the Disco has the same ones. Except he has 'Mad as a hatter' on one wrist and the other says 'Thin as a dime'. Both my wrists just say 'Mad as a hatter.' Besides, his are like actually like a big tattoo, mine are like bracelets. Mom went absolutely ballistic when she saw 'em." He muttered more to his shoulder than Jack. He was desperately praying to God that the annoying Maurice kid went away.

"You got your hair cut and you got it dyed!" Jack noticed, with a tone of disbelief in his voice.

True, his hair was now dyed that cheesy black that he had found at a drug store and hadn't payed very much for. His hair though, was professionally cut. His bangs reached to about his cheeks, usually his bangs would be covering both eyes, but today his mother insisted that he at least have on eye showing. The rest of his hair reached to about his chin.

"Yours got longer." He stated matter-of factly. To this, Jack merely rolled his eyes, examining his friend closely.

Finally not being able to take it anymore, he turned to Maurice, not caring if it was being rude or that Jack would remark that he had no tact whatsoever (Pfft, as if the redhead tact had any at all).

"Can you go, please? You're rather annoying." He mumbled, grey eyes fixed on the other boy.

Maurice stared at him and Jack merely shifted uncomfortably next to him. Maurice got up suddenly, nodding in Jack's direction, clearing his throat and then walking off, perhaps to suck up to someone else. Roger shrugged, he never really did like sharing anyway that and he was hardly social.

Suddenly their attention was turned to a very loud clearing of the throat. Everyone's attention was drawn to a stage located in the front of the room. Perched at a podium was a tall and thin elderly man with glasses perched on the edge of his nose, his hair was slicked back one strand falling in front of his face. He cleared his throat again, finally gaining the attention of everyone in the large room.

"Good afternoon and welcome to St. Wells Catholic Boarding High School for Boys! I am Felix Blumstein and I am the dean here. I would like to welcome each and every one of you to the school. For those of you returning, welcome back. I would like to take the time to address all Freshman in the class of 2011. I know that you are new here, but I would like to make myself very clear. You may or may not have noticed that this is school. This is not a play of frivolity and none will be tolerated." He paused to clear his throat before continuing." Now, freshman, you will all be assigned to your dormitories and of course you already have your schedules. Tomorrow is your last day of vacation before classes resume. Your materials, I trust, have already been purchased, as have your text books. Now, please proceed to the cafeteria to receive your room assignment."

He paused in his speech, all of the freshman standing and looking around with an air of confusion. Most nervously shuffled into the cafeteria while some walked while chattering happily. Roger shuffled, mesmerized by the beaten up red Chucks on his feet. Of course they were beaten up, after two summers of nonstop biking, treading through puddles, and walking around, how intact would other shoes be? He smiled when he felt Jack elbow him, it seemed that something had caught the red-head's attention.

Looking up, he saw a short, thin blond boy who was laughing at something his friend had said. The blond was very tan with ash-blond hair that fell into his eyes and brushed the collar of his polo shirt. He caught the blond's eye contact and gave him a glare. The blond scrunched his nose in disdain and turned back to the fat kid he was talking to. Roger shrugged, a pang of jealousy needling his stomach.

They all shuffled into the cafeteria where there were massive cherry-wood tables in the cafeteria. On each table was a small ornate sign saying that schedules 'A-G' were at the first table, 'H-N' at the second table 'O-U' at the third and 'W-Z' at the fourth and last table. Smiling, Roger and Jack approached the second table. Roger smirked when he noticed that blondie was looking at him.

" Hey, Jack, look. Blondie digs me." he said bluntly, ready to chuckle but letting wilt away to just a taunting smirk.

Approaching the lady sitting at the second table, he mumbled that his last name was Harper and she began sifting through the papers. Finally finding it, she thrust it at him and he took it, nodding in thanks he walked off, looking at the information. Room 305. Second floor. West Wing. He was rooming with some kid with the last name Krupin. Maurice Krupin. His eyes widened comically, and his stomach sank.

Maurice. The Jim Morrison kid. Oh shit.

Sighing heavily, he concluded that there was no way that he was going to survive this.

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Uhm hey, you actually made this far? Okay, so like I said, it was my first AU, so I'm sorry if it was like a slow-motion train-wreck! I think it slowed down and just got really boring. But that's up to you to decide! Happy Reading, Leave a review? 


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